


Shigusa

by tsuristyle



Category: SMAP
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-09 23:12:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8916799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsuristyle/pseuds/tsuristyle
Summary: The party was loud and noisy, a celebration of nothing at all, just the way Shingo liked it.
(Inspired by Shingo's solo song of the same title. Written October 2009.)





	

The party was loud and noisy, a celebration of nothing at all, just the way Shingo liked it. They gathered to listen to his conversations, timid starlets and would-be acquaintances hoping to catch a passing glance and breathe in a little fame, and he catered to them lovingly, all brilliant smiles and flashing rings, flaunting casual stardom so much larger than life than mere existence.   
  
The actress he was talking to was focused breathlessly on him, so caught up in his physical presence that she didn't even so much as glance over when Tsuyoshi appeared next to him. His bandmate stood unconsciously close, nursing a second glass of wine in unfamiliar company; the faint sound of his teeth against the glass clicked in Shingo's ear. Shingo might as well have been drunk, his entire body awake with the thrill of the spotlight; he leaned over with an exaggerated movement and planted a kiss on Tsuyoshi's cheek. Tsuyoshi smacked him on the head, smiling faintly, the crowd around them roaring with laughter. Shingo soaked it up with a grin and wrapped his arm freely around his bandmate's waist.  
  
Tsuyoshi's hand found his shoulder for balance as he drained his glass, new conversations springing up around them. Shingo brushed his fingers along the fabric of his bandmate's shirt, watching his earring glitter as he tilted his head back. "Don't worry, I'm not drunk, just pretending." His bandmate nodded and fiddled with the empty glass, faint crystal noises ringing under his fingertips.  
  
"I think I need another," he said. He abruptly raised the glass up next to his ear and flicked it, eyes creasing in sudden amusement at the tone it produced.  
  
Shingo led the way through clusters of party-goers, Tsuyoshi's hand warm on his shoulder. Scattered conversations brightened and faded as they passed. He heard a woman's voice behind him, soft and laughing, and turned to see her slide a delicate hand into Tsuyoshi's hair, pulling him down to meet her parted lips. The surrounding couples intervened, laughing and apologizing as they pulled her away. Shingo laughed with them, Tsuyoshi's fingers wound tightly into his shirt sleeve.  
  
Somehow the noise escalated, echoing raucously from the next room. Tsuyoshi rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand, his hair ruffled from the sudden encounter. "Let's go," he said quietly.  
  
Shingo smoothed Tsuyoshi's hair down, earning an odd look from a passersby. He stared back, letting his hand linger on his bandmate's neck.   
  
"Yeah," he agreed.  
  
  
They drove home in the usual comfortable silence. At this hour the outside world seemed to consist of scattered clusters of light, threatening to illuminate the private darkness of the car as they slid by. Shingo could see Tsuyoshi's reflection in the windshield, vague and insubstantial, softly lightening and darkening with the passing of each streetlight. The lights reflected from above moved through him like falling stars. It made Shingo want to reach out and touch him, just to make sure he was real.  
  
In the parking lot, he let the engine die. They stared out the window at Tsuyoshi's apartment.  
  
Tsuyoshi ran a hand over his face. "I didn't recognize her."  
  
The image of the woman's lips against Tsuyoshi's flickered behind Shingo's eyelids. "Me neither."   
  
His bandmate looked at him. Shingo stared ahead, listening to the sound of their breathing, the sound of Tsuyoshi's coat rustling. The darkness blanketing them was almost physically tangible, heavy with more and less freedom than the glitz of the spotlight. Tsuyoshi opened the door and stepped unsteadily out onto the pavement. "G'night."  
  
Shingo's seatbelt pressed tightly against his chest. "'Night."  
  
He waited until Tsuyoshi was safely inside, and closed his eyes. The curve of his bandmate's neck under his lips and tongue, bare feet sliding against sheets and breath hot in his ear, his fingers dragging across skin slick with sweat--  
  
He breathed out, resting his hand on the steering wheel. His rings glittered dimly.  
  
 _\--he squeezed through the crowd and spotted the woman from before. She was attractive, her hands delicate around a wine glass, her lips soft and smooth on the rim--_  
  
He fixed his hair in the mirror, avoiding his eyes, and started the car.


End file.
